Take This Love and Take It Down
by nerdangels
Summary: Katniss had never been much of a sleepwalker before all of this. Now waking up in the pale yellow confines of Prim's room were a nightly occurrence. Post-Mockingjay, pre-epilogue. ONE-SHOT. Mockingjay spoilers.


Katniss had never been much of a sleepwalker before all of this. Before she went into the Arena the first time, most of her sleeps had been… not _peaceful_, not even particularly resting, but they had been dreamless and she very rarely ever woke up tossing and turning and gasping for air. Sleep was simply a six hour break from consciousness, nothing more and nothing less. Not something she either looked forward to or dreaded. It was just something that happened like clockwork.

Of course, the nightmares after her two rounds in the Arena were nothing compared to the echoes of the rebellion that would plague her after the war. While visions of Cato and Thresh and Clove and _Rue_; of mutations and blood storms and clocks had been bad enough, it was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what came afterward. Things were no longer contained to the distant beaches or forests of the arenas; places that had been knocked down and destroyed as soon as they had finished serving their purpose to make room for the next one. They were no longer a physical part of the world and she did not have to go there again. But now she was plagued with memories of explosions and man-sized-lizards and landmines that were everywhere. Every district she had visited, the Seam, the undergrounds of Thirteen, everywhere. Faces of those that had died alongside her haunted her every time her eyes so much as slipped shut, but none so much as the little girl she had raised in the Seam. No, no one's eyes stared back as her as much as those of Primrose Everdeen.

The unmistakable plait of blonde hair was easily seen from Katniss' hiding place. Something was wrong though. _Prim_—Prim shouldn't be there. She shouldn't be there, not now. Why was she there? Prim wasn't a soldier. She wasn't even a proper _doctor_. She should have never been let out of the safe walls of District Thirteen. Sure as hell shouldn't have been let right into the Capitol, practically hand delivered to Snow's front door. Katniss was calling down to her, trying to get her attention, tell her to run and that she shouldn't be there. It all happened too fast though. The parachutes were already falling and Katniss couldn't get to her in time. She couldn't save her—just like she couldn't save Peeta from being taken or Finnick from being killed by the mutts. She wasn't fast enough, she wasn't—

Just as the bombs went off, Katniss was pulled from unconsciousness.

Her heart was hammering in her chest and she hadn't realized that she was standing until she felt her knees give underneath of her and she dropped to the floor. Katniss hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep the tears that had built up from spilling over. "Just a dream. Just a dream." She murmured the words over and over to herself like a prayer. It wasn't just a dream, though. It was a memory and though it had happened in the past, it was still very real. Katniss paused her and the room would have been silent if it weren't for the heavy breaths she was giving, or the sound of her blood rushing through her ears so loudly she could hardly concentrate. Swallowing harshly she finally looked up, the curtain of dark hair falling to land behind her shoulders as a hand reached up to push it out of her vision.

She was in Prim's room. She wasn't surprised. This seemed to be an almost nightly occurrence and this was always where she ended up. Licking her dry lips she leaned back against the pale yellow wall, bracing herself as she pushed up on shaky legs. Her gaze swept across the untouched room and she was hit with a freight train of memories. Katniss hadn't been able to bring herself to change anything about the room since she had returned from Thirteen. This was Prim's room, no matter what, and it would stay that way until… well it just would.

Blinking harshly at the moisture that had built up again Katniss cursed under her breath. Walking forward she extended an arm and her fingertips trailed delicately against the furniture as she passed, the rough pads gliding easily overtop of Prim's belongings as if she could pull some sort of life force out of them. Katniss stopped at the side of the bed, eyes falling to rest on the comforter and almost obnoxiously fluffed pillow. Neither of these things had come to the house with them. They were both things that the Capitol had supplied the house with after Katniss had won the games. The thin, brown blanket that was folded at the bottom, however, was theirs. With a final breath, Katniss sat down on the bed carefully. She pulled her legs up and curled into herself, a hand reaching down to wrap around the thin, hole-filled blanket before pulling it up around her shoulders.

Pressing her face into the pillow, Katniss inhaled. Lilac and honey filled her nostrils and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was such a feminine, dainty smell—something completely Prim. Long arms reached out and cradled the pillow close to her. "I'm sorry, Prim. I'm sorry." Her voice cracked with emotion. It was the first time she had ever said it outloud, especially in such an intimate place. "I'm so sorry." Letting her eyes flutter closed again, Katniss felt her body relax into the mattress. The tension in her shoulders had started to die and her breathing was becoming shallow. Sleep would pull her under again in no time, and in her tired state she sent a silent wish that it could go uninterrupted, at least for a few hours before opening her mouth again to let out a softer string of words to the familiar melody.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow…"

She wasn't sure what had prompted the song that she hadn't sang in months, but as the words trailed off into a jumbled mess she drifted back into sleep.

The peaceful feeling wouldn't last, though. She would find herself in the exact same position the next night, and the one after that and the one after that. It was what she deserved and it was what she would get. Sparking the rebellion had done the world a lot of good, but many people had died for her and that was her cross to bear. She had made her bed and now she would have to lie in it—but for tonight, Prim's would do.


End file.
